The Madness of Denethor
by The Hobbit Lass
Summary: Humorous oneshot. Denethor can’t remember who his son Faramir is, throws halfdigested tomatoes and chicken legs at people, and ends up getting shot with a tranquilizer dart! It's actually quite amusing.


Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings.I also don't own Denethor (thank goodness), nor do I want to own him.

The Madness of Denethor

Denethor sat in his shiny black chair, sulking and scowling to himself as usual. His son Faramir walked into the room. "Father, I-"

"Father?" said Denethor. "I'm not your father!" One of his eyes began to twitch violently.

Faramir sighed. He went through this conversation nearly every day. "Yes, you _are_ my father. And I am your son! Your son, Faramir!"

"I only have one son. And he's dead. Now go away, I need some alone time while I scowl down at the floor. It may not seem like it, but scowling at the floor is a very complicated and intricate art that requires much skill." He waved a hand, dismissing Faramir.

"But Father-"

"I already told you, I'm not your father! Who the heck are you, anyway?"

"I'm Faramir!"

"Faramir? I think that name rings a bell." He thought for a moment. "Wait. Nope, never heard of him. Now get out of here, or I'll throw a half-digested tomato at you!"

"_Half-digested_ tomato?" Faramir echoed. "Never mind, don't explain it to me. I really don't want to know. Well, good day to you, Father." He disappeared through the double doors.

Denethor shook his fist at Faramir's retreating back. "I AM NOT YOUR FATHER! GO BACK TO THE INSANE ASYLUM WHERE YOU BELONG!" His eye twitched again and he started to drool slightly.

Ten minutes later, Beregond came into the room. He approached Denethor's chair and bowed. "My lord, your son has taken one of your horses without permission."

"Son? My son is dead."

"Your _other_ son."

"I have no other son. My son is dead. Dead, I tell you!" The steward's face screwed up unattractively and he started to weep into his hands.

Beregond tapped him on the shoulder. "Calm down, my lord. Now tell me what I should do."

Denethor removed his hands from his face and ceased his little crying moment. "Do about what? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Tell me what I should do about your son."

"MY SON IS DEAD, I ALREADY TOLD YOU!" Denethor grabbed his cane and whacked Beregond on the leg with it. "Why does everyone keep going on about this supposed other son of mine? Has everyone gone crazy? Am I the only sane one here?"

Beregond backed away very slowly. "Er... I will discuss this later with you. Um, I really must leave now!" He turned around and ran out of the room screaming.

Denethor's hands twitched and he scowled down at the floor. "My son is dead. The entire city has gone crazy." His hands clenched into fists. "I must rid Gondor of all these nutcases! They shall burn! BURN!"

A servant poked his head into the room. "My lord? Are you alright?"

Denethor threw a chicken leg at the servant. "Get out of here and don't interrupt my plotting!" Denethor always kept chicken legs handy in his pocket, in case he needed something to throw at people. His eyes twitched and he went back to scowling and muttering to himself.

He continued to do this for about twenty-five more minutes, until Faramir decided to visit him again. He kneeled down in front of his father. "Father, I'm sorry. I borrowed a horse without-"

"Stop calling me Father!" Denethor roared. "I don't know who you are! If you don't leave me alone, I'll hire someone to beat you up and take you away by force!"

Faramir stood up. "Father, I don't know what has gotten into you. How could you not remember me? I'm your son, Faramir!"

Denethor scowled more evilly than he usually did. "No, I only have one son. You're probably some homeless boy with no parents and have decided to pretend that I'm your father. How pathetic."

"No! That's not true!"

Denethor snapped his fingers and a couple of men appeared. "Remove this man and take him to see a psychiatrist immediately!"

The two men obeyed and, grabbing Faramir by the arms, dragged him out of the room.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Faramir screamed. "YOU'RE MY FATHER!" His voice soon died away as he was dragged out.

Denethor went back to scowling at the floor. "There are too many crazy people like that guy around here. I must devise a plan to burn them all! Mwahahaha! ALL SHALL BURN! ALL SHALL-" He suddenly slumped over in his seat and fell onto the floor.

"Wow, those tranquilizer darts work fast!" said Faramir in awe.

"Yes, they sure do," said the psychiatrist who had fired the dart. "Excellent job, Faramir. Thank you for informing me of your father's condition."

"I was only doing what I felt was my duty."

"Do you want to go and get some chocolate?' the psychiatrist suggested.

"Sure!" The two of them left the room, leaving Denethor laying on the ground. A few hours later, the steward woke up and discovered himself in a room with strange rubbery walls and a straight-jacket on his body. He remained there for several weeks until he was deemed well enough to go back into the public world.

Releasing Denethor from the rubber room was a mistake and all of the psychiatrists responsible immediately lost their jobs.

The end!

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Aw... poor Faramir. Make sure you review, because each review you send will cheer up Faramir! You don't want Faramir to be depressed, do you? 


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